


Give me your cold hands put them on my heart

by illuminatedcities



Series: Mechanic!AU [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, mechanic!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 09:32:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4055068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illuminatedcities/pseuds/illuminatedcities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Jesus, Harold, you don’t lose any time,” he mumbles against the side of Harold’s neck, moving his head down so he can lick at the hollow of his throat.<br/>Harold shudders, letting his head fall back a little to give John better access.</p>
<p>“I can give you the cliff notes if you have trouble keeping up,” Harold says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give me your cold hands put them on my heart

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Afterlife" by Ingrid Michaelson. 
> 
> Thanks to the tumblr crew for enabling, uhm, inspiring me and being so supportive and awesome:  
> talkingtothesky, Daisy, nightwolfslair & Reed. <3 YOU ARE THE COOLEST OKAY

They stare at each other for a moment, and then John drops the wrench and makes a step forward just as Harold grabs his collar and pulls him close.

John’s arms are coming around him, hands curled into his shirt.

Harold pushes John against the side of the car, the red convertible Sameen had been working on and that suddenly doesn’t seem that interesting at all.

Harold’s hands are coming up to cup John’s jaw, kissing him thoroughly, and John hums into his mouth.

John tugs at Harold’s shirttails until he gets his hand on the naked skin of his back, and when Harold gets a leg between both of his, John gasps, hands tightening on Harold’s hips.

“Jesus, Harold, you don’t lose any time,” he mumbles against the side of Harold’s neck, moving his head down so he can lick at the hollow of his throat.

Harold shudders, letting his head fall back a little to give John better access.

“I can give you the cliff notes if you have trouble keeping up,” Harold says, unbuttoning John’s shirt and putting his hands on every bit of skin he uncovers.

“Hm, I think I get the general idea,” John says, his hand at the back of Harold’s neck to pull him closer for more kissing, while the other one slides between them to cup Harold through his pants.

Harold draws in a sharp breath, leaning his forehead against John’s shoulder, and when John slides his thumb along the bulge in his pants, Harold says his name, a shuddering breath against his neck.

Harold’s shoulders are shaking a little against him, wanting to try everything at once, to touch and kiss and _taste_ him.

John turns his head until he can kiss Harold’s temple.

It’s been _too long,_ it’s been forever since Harold felt for someone like this, maybe the last person who made his heart clench desperately in his chest like that had been _Nathan_.

Having somebody touch him like that, full of hungry intent, wanting him, _needing him_ , is just -- it’s just --

“You okay?” John asks, low and careful.

Harold chuckles into his shirt, hiding his face.

“More than okay, I’m just --“ Harold turns his head to the side so he can look up at John, his hair mussed up and his lips swollen and red, eyes bright and open.

_“Thank you_ ,” Harold finally says, entwining their hands between their bodies, and John can’t do much else than squeeze his hand, pull him closer, try to _breathe._

They stay like that for a moment, holding each other closely, and then Harold finishes unbuttoning John’s shirt, brushes it over his shoulders, lets John do the same for him.

“What do you want, what -- _John_ ,” Harold mumbles, incoherent, desperate, both of them hard, hips pushing up against each other through the fabric of their pants for the slightest bit of friction.

“Just touch me, Harold,” John says, voice hoarse, and Harold _does_ , running his hands over John’s chest, his arms, unbuttoning and unzipping John’s jeans and pulling them down along with his boxers, letting him stretch out along the hood of the car.

The way John writhes on the polished red hood is almost pornographic, and Harold teases his nipples with the blunt nail of his thumb, watches John’s head fall back, throat exposed, his hips thrusting up against Harold’s weight above him.

Harold leans down to kiss John’s throat, the edge of his jaw, running his fingers over the trace of stubble there before letting his hands wander down John’s stomach, the line of dark hair running down from his navel.

John’s hands come up to rest on Harold’s shoulders and Harold reaches down to close his hand around John’s erection, letting it slide through his hand.

John’s hands tighten on Harold’s shoulders, his breathing erratic.

He makes needy little sounds and Harold leans down to kiss them off his lips, jerking on his cock.

The way John drinks up every bit of touch makes Harold think of a starving man, desperate for affection, and he makes a point of kissing John as much as he wants, his free hand stroking the side of his face, _It’s alright, you never have to be alone again._

John whimpers and clutches at Harold’s shoulders when he comes, spilling warm and slick over Harold’s hand, and Harold eases him through it, presses his forehead against John’s.

It takes a moment for John to recover, and Harold is at once acutely aware of his own throbbing erection in his pants and lets himself push up against John’s leg, burying his face against John’s neck, breathing him in.

“Wait, Harold, let me --“ John says groggily, unzips his pants and gets a hand inside, and Harold pushes up against his hand, so close, _god, so close already_.

“There’s a really large bed in my new apartment,” John says into Harold’s ear, voice pitched low, Harold’s cock jerking in his hand at the sound of his voice, “And I can think of so many things I want to do in it.”

Harold’s hips are thrusting against him in a desperate rhythm, and John lets his voice drop down to a whisper.

“I’d like to spend an afternoon sucking your cock, stopping every time I feel you getting close until you’re desperate for it,” John says, feeling Harold’s whole body shiver at the words.

_“John,_ ” Harold chokes out with a strangled voice.

“I want you to spread me out on that bed, put your hands all over me and _fuck_ me,” John says, and Harold thrusts once more into his hand and comes, his whole body going limp against him, and John catches him easily, keeping him on top of him.

They lie there with just the sounds of their breathing and the blood rushing in their ears, a warm, sticky mess drying between them, until finally Harold blinks up at John, his glasses fogged up, and says:

“If Sameen ever learns about what we have done to this car, we are both _doomed_.”

John laughs until his chest hurts with it.


End file.
